


Intertwined

by chicago_ruth



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Hero Worship, Love/Hate, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-19
Updated: 2012-10-19
Packaged: 2017-11-16 14:29:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/540466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chicago_ruth/pseuds/chicago_ruth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Emrys will never love Mordred, that much is clear. But Mordred is willing to take what he can.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Intertwined

**Author's Note:**

> This was written before 5.03 aired. I have tried to write it as canon-compliant as possible, but I'm sure that as the season continues aspects of the fic will become jossed. *crosses fingers*

After the first day of training to be a knight, of wielding a sword almost as clumsily as Mordred had once wielded his magic, Arthur says loudly, for everybody to hear, "Why don't you help Mordred with his armor, Merlin?"

There is a glower on Emrys's face; he starts protesting, but Arthur holds up his hand to stop him. "Mordred is new to the whole thing. Be nice to him."

And that's that. Mordred attempts to smile at Emrys, but Emrys's expression remains cold. He takes the sword from his hands and says, "Follow me." 

They stride to Mordred's chambers, no word spoken between them, no matter how much Mordred wishes to hear Emrys's voice. Once they are inside, Emrys gives curt orders to _stand still_. Mordred waits while Emrys undoes the laces around Mordred's vambraces, waits while Emrys removes each layer of armor. It is not done with any sort of reverence or respect; Mordred is glad for it.

He doesn't know how he would feel, to have Emrys acting truly submissive to him.

And once the armor is gone, there is nothing to stop Mordred from falling to his knees, and wrapping an arm around Emry's legs. "You fear me so, yet I have shown you nothing to warrant it."

"You have shown me what you're capable of."

The statement sends a thrill through Mordred, that Emrys remembered his magic despite all the years passed. He cannot stop himself from leaning down further, to kiss Emrys's boots.

He hears Emrys stutter. "What are--"

"You fear me, yet you are Emrys. Among my people, it is you who are fearsome." Mordred lifts his head to meet Emrys's gaze; Emrys looks away. "Let me show you what you are to us, to me."

He begins undoing the laces on his breeches, and is surprised--and thrilled--when Emrys makes no move to stop him. The beginnings of arousal wash over him as he takes in Emrys's scent. He needs this, he needs to show Emrys how much he reveres him, how much he will do to stay by his side.

Emrys's hands tighten in Mordred's hair, either to stop him or encourage him; Mordred takes it as permission to begin. He wraps his lips around Emrys's cock, takes it as deep as he can and breathes in. This is what it's like to taste a god, he thinks, while coaxing Emrys's cock to hardness. He wishes Emrys would truly use him, but there are no hard thrusts, just a few involuntary jolts. For all that Emrys is open in his hatred of Mordred, he is gentle.

Mordred pulls away, and the fingers in his hair loosen. He nuzzles against Emrys's hip and presses kisses to the small area of exposed skin.

It isn't enough. He wants more. He wants Emrys to take him, he wants to see Emrys lose control. He wants to feel Emrys's magic coursing through him.

He takes a chance. He pushes Emrys onto the bed, and gets a reaction out of him this time. "Wait, this is--"

"Let me. I want to do this for you," Mordred answers, and even though it would be so easy for Emrys to fight back, he just lies down on the bed, his cock contrasting sharply with the breeches and tunic he still wears. Clothes unfit for Emrys, clothes unfit even for _Merlin_.

Mordred pulls his own clothes off, until he is naked before Emrys, and it seems that this is the first time that Emrys truly sees him as a fellow man. His eyes take in Mordred's body, linger at his crotch, and again Mordred wishes that they would turn golden for him. Still, being under Emrys's scrutiny makes him flush, and he feels himself swell with arousal.

It is a matter of a few words to enchant oil onto his fingers. He notices Emrys tense at the obvious magic, but beyond that, no words.

Mordred climbs onto the bed and straddles Emrys's thighs. He uses the oil to slick his hole, to slick Emrys's cock. Emrys gasps sharply, and his eyes flutter close for a moment. His mind is beginning to wander, Mordred thinks, and it angers him.

He sinks down onto Emrys's flesh, gritting his teeth against the pain. Emrys's hands come up to grip his hips, to help him to get a rhythm started. They look each other in the eye for but a moment, before Emrys turns his head away and closes his eyes completely. Like he does not want to see Mordred at all.

The next time he sinks down, Mordred clenches tighter, and draws a hiss out of Emrys. 

"Are you thinking of Arthur?" Mordred asks, and is satisfied when all of Emrys's attention focuses on him again. "He's a good man. A worthy man."

Emrys tightens his grip on Mordred's hips, enough to cause pain. "Arthur is none of your concern."

"He's all of my concern now. I'm sworn to protect--" Mordred breaks off into a moan, spurred on by a particularly vicious thrust from Emrys. He finds his balance shifting; Emrys is flipping them around, until Mordred is on his back and is forced to spread his legs wider to accommodate Emrys. The pace becomes harsher, Emrys not caring at all about Mordred's discomfort, and Mordred sighs in pleasure.

"Why do you hate me?" Mordred asks, putting as much of his love for Emrys into his voice as he can.

Emrys falters for a moment, but when he answers he looks straight into Mordred's eyes. "I don't hate you. I hate what you will do."

That is the crux of it, this vague destiny that has been told in all the druid camps, this vague destiny that ties the two of them together. It is the reason why Mordred loves Emrys, the reason why Mordred will forever hate him. "You would have let me die as a boy," he whispers as he digs his nails into Emrys's back.

"And I would do it again to save Albion. To save Arthur." Emrys accentuates his words by biting down on Mordred's neck. It's more primal, more visceral than anything else Mordred has ever experienced.

He will never have Emrys's love; Mordred has known this since that day so many years ago, when Emrys would have killed a child for a man who would never accept him. But he _will_ have his hatred.

"I would destroy anything that comes in the way of peace for our people," Mordred whispers, and urges Emrys to bite harder. 

But Emrys pulls back, his lip smeared with the faintest hint of blood, and his eyes finally, finally, gold with anger. "And you wonder why--"

Mordred lets his own magic flare up, urges Emrys to thrust again, is glad when Emrys licks the blood from his lips and drives even harder into him. Through all the pain, all the pleasure, their eyes never leave each other, until Emrys spills into Mordred.

There is magic in an act like this, magic that Mordred greedily consumes, and he cannot even regret when Emrys pulls away from him and wipes himself clean on the bed sheet. There is no thought spared for Mordred's pleasure; it would not matter to Mordred either way. He revels in knowing that for a moment, all of Emrys's attention was on him.

"This will never happen again," Emrys says, and already Mordred can hear that first spark of self-loathing.

_Should you wish it to, I will always welcome you._

Emrys shudders at the words. Perhaps he will never wish it to happen again, but Mordred smiles: Emrys will never be able to stay away from him. He will make certain of it. Whether through love or hate, Mordred will ensure that their fates will stay forever intertwined.


End file.
